


the cold shoulder of consequence

by Tridraconeus



Series: it's not like you're dying [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, PTSD, lonnie is helplessly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6862966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridraconeus/pseuds/Tridraconeus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm tired of waking up screaming, Tim."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the cold shoulder of consequence

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place before and during chapter five of "by boring brick"!

  
_(Rush where angels dare not tread/_   
_Forced the hand of nature's accidents)_

Tim was woken by his cell phone ringing. That meant someone had his cell phone number-- a rare enough occurrence, and rarer still someone would call instead of text. He didn't know the number. It's... he'd never even seen it before. He answered the phone and sat up in bed.  
  
"Hello? This is Red Robin's cell. Please state your business."  
  
It's Lonnie on the other end of the line.  
  
"Tim. Tim, I just-- I just wanted to hear your voice." He sounded awful. Like he'd been crying. Tim didn't find that hard to believe. His voice was thin and shaking, suffused throughout with bone-deep fatigue-- trouble getting to sleep?  
  
"I'm here, Lonnie. Is everything alright?" It's the Pit. He knew that's what it was. Being brought back from the brink-- or ripped from a coma-- must have some sort of consequence.  
  
"I'm tired of waking up screaming, Tim."  
  
Tim sighed. Of course he was-- Lonnie was so smart, and being cut off from the one place that could keep up with him and keep him distracted... and the Pit, playing with his mind, along with all that!  
  
"Do you want me to come over?" It never hurt to ask, right?  
  
"...yeah. Please. I'm at your safehouse." _The one we kissed at_ , unspoken but present. Tim didn’t waste time thinking about how he got in there, because Lonnie definitely had the key by now.  
  
"I'll be there in a few minutes. Drink some water, walk around a little bit."  
  
"'Kay."  
  
"I'll see you there, Lonnie."  
  
"'Kay."  
  
Tim hung up. Once he got off the phone, he allowed the calm mask to drop, a bit; Lonnie... sounded bad. Did Tim make a mistake in bringing Lonnie back? Was Lonnie _happier_ when he was in his coma? (But Lonnie was his friend, and this decision, however unadvisedly, wasn't impulsive.)  
  
He'd go. Do his best to soothe Lonnie, and maybe get some answers.  
  
*  
When he arrived, Lonnie was sitting on his bed with his knees tucked to his chest, back up against the headboard. His eyes were red, like he’s been crying—he probably had been. It made Tim’s chest ache. He wasted no more time thinking about what happened, shrugged his coat off and sat down on the bed beside Lonnie-- he _did_ like contact, did he?-- and placed his hand consolingly on his shoulder.  
  
"I'm here now, Lonnie. Are you feeling alright?"  
  
Sure enough, Lonnie leaned into him and relaxed some of the steely tension in his body. Tim took a risk and leaned down enough to kiss his forehead, a small thing; the brush of lips on skin, gentle enough to overlook. Lonnie didn't comment and only sank closer. The icy fear in Tim’s spine melted at that, a little, and was replaced by warmth.   
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
Dear god, it was like talking to an emotionally-fragile wall. Lonnie looped his arms around Tim's midsection and kept drifting until his head finally came to a rest in Tim's lap.   
  
"Alright." He petted Lonnie's head, played with his hair. That meant no, then. Lonnie stayed silent, though Tim doubted is was due to stubbornness- - more from fatigue.   
  
*  
In his habitual checking, Lonnie happened to see Tim getting the tar beaten out of him by Crane-- there was a bystander in the room, stock-still, frozen, until he finally leapt into action just as Crane took his leave.  
  
Well. That just wouldn't do. Lonnie booted up a virtual machine and got to work.  
*  
  
"Tim? Hey, Tim." Lonnie adjusted his laptop's cam until his face was squared in its sights. "Your, uh, fight with Scarecrow-- Riddler knows. There was a security camera in the room."  
  
It was all he could do to sound apologetic instead of angry. He wanted to rip Crane a new one-- a couple new ones-- maybe help him come up with a better costume design, stick arms and all. Tim, to his credit, skipped trying to sound anything and went straight to being angry.  
  
"Oh, great. Now I'm never going to hear the end of it." Tim had that fire in his eyes that Lonnie'd grown familiar with and fond of-- the kind he'd gladly get burned to feel.  
  
Tim was mumbling angrily. Something about coordinates, and hunting down, and _man_ Lonnie hoped he wasn't talking about Riddler.  
  
"Tim, Tim, I got the chemical formula, who's shipping it to him, those on his payroll right now, and his bank account number." That _should_ do to placate him. Sure enough, that fire sparked right back up.  
  
"Can you send them to me?"  
  
"Yeah, no problem."  
  
"You may have issues sending them to me..."  
  
"I'll do what I can. The files should be uploaded to this laptop by 'o-eight-hundred tomorrow. And get some rest, okay? You don't look too good."  
  
Lonnie looked up to see someone behind Tim, at his door, but Tim didn't react and so Lonnie discounted him as a threat. Even though he was scowling something fierce.  
  
"'Kay. Thanks for all your help. I wouldn't be able to do this without you." Tim was smiling. It made Lonnie's chest positively ache.  
  
"'Aight. Bye now, Tim."  
  
Lonnie shut off the call, fiddled with the information and zipped it, then sent it to Tim. He shut the computer down and leaned back on his bed, smiling up at the fan like an idiot.  
  
Getting the info wasn't easy, but to see that look on Tim's face? Worth it.


End file.
